A Right To Swear
A Right To Swear
by
Lem Griffiths
July, 2016.
Young gulls - love.,
How that fickle wind blows,
Soaring, dive bombing.,
As their fancy takes, not a 'blue sky' care -
O'er the chaos below-screeching of laughter,
They've earned the right to wail and cry and swear.
I looked down from my window,
In the nano second of a beat,
Yes., he'd once soared higher.., higher-
Or balanced above all the recklessness.,
Life's precarious bird on a wire.
In the late Autumn's heat.
Just yards, at a junction, prized from his weapon,
'Lamp post lynching seemed nigh,
Til a uniform, roughly plucked him,
To give account..,
To the young school gang., crying ., 'Why?'.
An interview, he can't be late -
He never got the job,
The 'mort'-gauge, a leaky roof,
All meant nothing to the mob.
Whilst back down my road, in solemn silence we stood,
His wings broken asunder,
Mrs lollipop closed his eyes,
As a gust ruffled his hair.,
And in the distance -
A deep rumble of thunder.
So..., so long, young sea gull from number 28,
The homework chasing - no more,
The years and the town - all seem to stem from that day,
There ought to be a law.....,
Damn it, Dad.., there ought to be a law.
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